Work Text:
Bulma heard Vegeta’s yell of frustration from the other side of the house, reverberating off the walls in her workroom. It wasn’t completely unusual to hear similar noises from him, but usually from outside, around the gravity room. Those had gotten easy to ignore over the years, but something in this one had Bulma pushing away from her desk in a rush. Enough real anger was mixed in, not just his casual irritation at himself getting directed at others. And worse, he was supposed to be watching Trunks. She dropped the solder gun in her hand, barely remembering to flip it off before rushing out of the room. The wordless shout had turned into slightly-less-loud yelling, though she couldn’t make out the words. But it made it easy to follow the sound.
The house suddenly shook with the sound of an explosion and Bulma put a hand to the wall to steady herself, her own temper rising up, mixing with concern. There was either actual danger, or Goku had shown up and Vegeta was simply losing his temper. She bit her lip thinking of the small body that was in the house, hopefully - hopefully being protected by Vegeta and not completely forgotten about. While she never figured herself as the type to have a motherly instinct or warmth, she still felt the need to find and protect her little boy. In her mindless rush out of the room, she hadn’t thought to grab her tablet with the security cameras, so she could only hope to find him with Vegeta.
More shouting, coming from the analog training room she’d built at Vegeta’s insistence. She pushed open the door, putting strength into it and purposefully letting it bang against the wall behind it as she scanned the room. Vegeta was standing over Trunks, a not-quite-hole on the far wall, a twisted expression of anger on his face.
“Hey!” Bulma yelled, not quite sure what to say yet, but wanting to take control of the situation. She moved quickly, scooping up Trunks - who was surprisingly not crying yet under Vegeta’s stare. “Why’re you making such a ruckus?” She gestured to the far wall. “This room wasn't made for the blasts, remember? We talked about this! And don't bring the ceiling down on our son!” She pushed the anger out in her words, not giving in to the relief she felt at seeing Trunks safe. She’d never understand how ChiChi could stay on Goku like she did, at least Bulma knew Vegeta would fight her back. Which she saw him raring up to do. His eyes focused on her before moving accusingly to the child in her arms, who was currently grabbing for the hair in her ponytail as he mumbled incoherently.
“That!” He spat out the word. “He’ll never be a saiyan warrior if he can't even make a fist properly!”
Trunks rolled in Bulma’s arms as he reached for something else in the room and she put him on the ground so he could crawl off. She turned back to Vegeta, still glaring at their young son like Trunks had personally offended him.
“He’s 6 months old, Vegeta. The fact that he’s crawling is already impressive. Making a fist on command is a bit much.”
“That’s your pathetic blood in him, then.” Vegeta’s arms were crossed practically petulantly.
Bulma bristled. “Oooh, I’m so sorry, your highness of a fucking non-existant planet! I guess our son will have to grow up intelligent instead of with an inflated ego over punching!”
She watched Vegeta’s face turn red, temper flaring again, but there was a clattering at the far wall beside them before he could respond with their usual back and forth. They both looked over to where Trunks had knocked down a bundle of training weapons Vegeta had wanted after seeing Goku’s staff, and then forgotten about after a week. Trunks had one with a blade and was swinging it around from where he was sitting, almost rolling backwards a few times.
Bulma felt another slice of what must be motherly concern at the dangerous weapon in her baby’s hands, even though she knew the likelihood of him hurting himself was small. It was more of a danger to her, honestly. The weapon he was swinging, 5 times his size, would be an actual threat if she walked in there.
To her surprise, Vegeta made the first move, walking towards Trunks without any rush. A quick glance at him showed a smile that could have been called proud, if it wasn't so smug. “Looks like his Saiyan blood is thick afterall.” The approval in his tone was another insult to her own human genes, and she rolled her eyes at the statement. But a streak of similar pride ran through her as well. Both at the strength Trunks was showing and at the way Vegeta was looking at him.
Trunks had her and her parents’ love, and that wouldn’t change regardless of his skill in any area. But his father was a different story, and she hoped to keep that a secret from him as long as possible. For all the softness she begrudgingly had for Vegeta, for all the kindness she could see in him, even when he tried to hide it, she knew his capability as a father was on the edge. Trunks would grow up second guessing his love as much as she second guessed his maybe-there feelings for her. She had even questioned her own father’s approval of her when she failed at building something, or made a mistake while helping him - and he had been nothing but supportive her entire life. And so, the moment she had realized she was pregnant, and that the child was definitely Vegeta’s, she envisioned that struggle her child would have. But she wanted Vegeta’s love for him, and she didn’t stop when she wanted something.
So, she watched Vegeta walk up with that smug, proud smile with a mixture of pride and relief herself. At his feelings, and at the way he softly deflected the blade with his finger as Trunks blindly swung it. In most households this probably wouldn’t be considered healthy, this encouragement of violence at such a young age. But she knew what she was getting into when she decided to stick with her pregnancy, what having a child with a Saiyan father meant. And she could see the gentleness in Vegeta, now. He wasn’t rough enough to cause any damage, to knock the infant over, but just enough to encourage him to keep going, giving pointers that Trunks couldn’t actually understand yet about how to hit, how to block, how to go for a weakness.
They “sparred” like that for a few minutes, Bulma forgetting her own work she had been hoping to get done while Vegeta was watching him. Eventually Trunks dropped the weapon, much to Vegeta’s chagrin, yelling at him to pick it up while Trunks just started crying. Bulma intervened, then, but she didn’t feel the same anger now at the overreaction of Vegeta’s. “He’s just hungry, bring him to the kitchen.”
Vegeta glared at her and then down at Trunks, who was raising his arms at Bulma.
“If you want dinner tonight, pick him up like I taught you.” She turned on her heel, knowing that he wouldn’t do it while she watched. She heard his grumbling as she walked away, and then Trunks’ cries cutting off in a surprised huff.
Sneaking a glance behind her, she saw Vegeta holding Trunks out with a frown and then awkwardly fitting him into his arms. Bulma smiled to herself and continued down the hall to the kitchen before Vegeta saw her.
Maneuvering around him was still difficult, he was like a stubborn mule and her own stubbornness wanted to raise its head in response. She wanted to smugly tell him he was finally acting like a father, but that would just have him holding out Trunks by his leg again, ignoring his wails for otherwise. So she held back, and when Vegeta walked into the kitchen she instead gave him an impressed smile at Trunks’ lack of crying.
“He’s being even better for you than my father.”
“Ha! Of course he is, he’s my son.” Bingo. Vegeta practically beamed under her praise, though most wouldn’t have been able to see it. It had taken her a long time to see the emotions that weren’t just anger and annoyance, and she was still learning, but every now and again she could tell. The tug of a smile, the way his eyes crinkled, his muscles relaxing.
She pulled a bottle out of the warmer and handed it to Vegeta like it was something they did everyday, forcing the normalness of it on him. She watched his jaw clench before grabbing it, they’d already had this fight last week and he’d lost. As long as she didn't antagonize him, he’d do it. And with more focus than she’d seen Goku absentmindedly feed Gohan with, which she counted as a win among Saiyan fathers. Two wasn't a great sample size, but it’s all she had.
She prepped easy sandwiches while Vegeta fed Trunks, and then a few more for Vegeta's appetite. She put the first on the counter next to him and held out her hands for Trunks. “Do you want me to take him while you eat?”
Vegeta ignored her and held Trunks with one hand, letting him hold his own bottle now, mostly done suckling on it, and picked up the sandwich with the other. “Stupid woman, as if I can’t do both.”
They both watched as half of the sandwich felt out onto the plate. Trunks giggled in Vegeta's arms, which could only be a coincidence, but Bulma couldn't hold back her reciprocating laugh at the scene.
Vegeta chose option 2 out of his normal responses and pretended like it was what he’d meant to do, rolling his eyes at Bulma’s childish laughter.
“You over-filled the sandwich.”
“Right. Of course.” Bulma said through her laughter as Vegeta picked up his now-half-sandwich and took an angry bite. She cut his other sandwiches in half as he ate, making them more manageable for him.
An object whizzed by her face, crashing into a cabinet and then clattering to the floor. Trunks’ hands empty when she looked over, a wide smile on his face as he screeched laughter. The bottle rolled on the ground on the other side of the kitchen.
Bulma felt conflicted on how to react to it, but Vegeta laughed loudly and it lacked his usual ire. “Trunks wants another one too!”
Bulma grinned to herself at the silliness Vegeta rarely showed and grabbed Trunks another bottle even though she knew he wouldn't drink it.
“Didn’t you have work to do? You were making a huge fuss about it this morning.” Vegeta started on another sandwich half.
Bulma dropped the argument she could have started over that statement and instead just nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go now.” She grabbed her own sandwich and started walking to the door, the openness on Vegeta’s face still on her mind. “You’re a good father, Vegeta.” It felt like a risk to say it, to reinforce the domestic position he was in, and she kept her eyes trained on the door she was opening.
“Of course I am. Way better than that Yamcha idiot would be.”
The words shocked her, and she looked back at him, as if she could see the realness of them on his face. But he was paying full attention to Trunks now, bouncing him in his hand while he chewed on the second sandwich.
She decided to allow the fuzzy feeling that gave her to stay, and continued back to her latest project.